He wore a threadbare silk dressing-gown over a pair of black lounging pyjamas. Pasted to his moist thick underlip was an unlighted cigarette.
“Leo!” he said severely, “I’m really ashamed of you.” He gave Ken that sly, knowing smile Ken had seen before. “The poor little fellow imagines he is a watch dog,” he went on. “So ambitious for such a mite, don’t you think?”
He bent and gathered the dog up in his arms.
Neither Fay nor Ken said anything. They kept on, both of them knowing that Sweeting was staring after them, and his intense curiosity seemed to bum into their backs with the force of a blow-lamp.
Ken found he was sweating. There was something alarming and menacing about this fat, sordid little man. He couldn’t explain the feeling, but it was there.
“Dirty little spy,” Fay said as she unlocked her front door. “Always hanging about just when he’s not wanted. Still, he’s harmless enough.”
Ken doubted this, but he didn’t say anything. It was a relief to get inside Fay’s apartment and shut the front door.
He tossed his hat on a chair and moved over to the fireplace, feeling suddenly awkward.
Fay went up to him, slid her arms around his neck and offered him her lips.
For a moment he hesitated then he kissed her. She closed her eyes, leaning against him, but now he suddenly wished she wouldn’t.